


Smugglers and Storytellers

by Sky99



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky99/pseuds/Sky99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malika Cadash never thought it possible to be able to escape the Carta, but things changed when she became Herald of Andraste instead of returning to Orzammar. Now she fights demons, closes rifts, and leads the Inquisition. The only thing that makes sense to her in this whole ordeal is the wit and charm of the roguish dwarf and storyteller, Varric Tethras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smugglers and Storytellers

"Ancestor's tits." Malika curses under her breath as she nocks an arrow and sends it flying into the head of the Shade on the other side of the field. The dwarf hated demons, probably about as much as she hated Orlesians and darkspawn. If she couldn't fix the problem by punching something or shooting it, she didn't want to deal with it. The Carta had been more than happy to accommodate her preferences, but it seems she can't afford that luxury as the head of the Inquisition. She dodges the Terror's swipe, almost tearing a hole through her armour and the tanned arm it shielded, and she scrambled on top of the boulder to her left in order to gain a height advantage. The demon she had avoided shrieked loudly, causing her to cover hear ears instinctively. Its cry was cut short as the Seeker, Cassandra, buried her sword in its lithe, sickly green frame, effectively rendering the beast disposed of. There was barely any time to nod her thanks to the Nevarran warrior before she was forced to dive off of her perch in order to avoid being hit by the Wraith's bolt of energy. That was the bad thing about being in such open spots on the battlefield. Even though she gained a strategic advantage, it left her exposed and vulnerable to the enemies that employed ranged attacks. She cried out in pain, the guttural sound ending with a growl, as she felt a sharp pain in her right side. A bolt whizzed past her ear and found itself in the skull of another Shade, who had managed to flank her and slash at her with its claws. She looked up as she held her side, hunched over, and attempts a weak smirk as she watched Varric rush over to her with a concerned look. His brow furrows as he notices how much blood was oozing from the unsightly wound. He tries to help her upright, but she shoves him away and limps to where the Fade rift boiled in the air just above Cassandra's head. With a grunt, Malika successfully closes it before collapsing, conveniently, into Varric's strong arms. He didn't seem to care that she had more than likely stained his elegant, red and gold tunic. She laughs weakly,

"Oops. Guess that'll teach you to wear such nice clothes to the Hinterlands," she joked. He makes a grim face as he slings Bianca back over his shoulder and produces a bandage from the satchel on his belt, which he promptly wraps around her abdomen in order to stem the bright red blood that was leaking from her side. He then hoists her up into his arms, cradling her legs and torso in each arm.

"Now, of course you would be the one to make jokes as you're bleeding out, Mal."

"You know me. If I don't make jokes about the demons, then no one will." The storyteller shoots her a disapproving frown and continues to carry her towards their camp. She didn't remember falling asleep (or did she pass out?), but the next thing she knew, she was jerking awake in a fit of cold sweat, disoriented and confused. Her dream was the same as all the others. The familiarity of the stone ceiling that signaled she was in the Deep Roads. Menacing, twisted beings of darkness jeering at her as her father and her fight off wave after wave of the blighted creatures. She heard a pained grunt and whirls around to see her father impaled on a hurlock's broadsword. His lifeless body slumps to ground at the darkspawn's feet and she is quickly surrounded by dozens more. They slowly creep closer and closer and and then... she wakes up. She always wakes up at that moment. She notices an familar shadow moving in the corner of the tent and she quickly drew her dagger, readying herself for self defense. _"_ _Genlock,"_  she thought to herself. She resembled a viper, coiled back in fear and rage, ready to lash out at the offender. Her eyes narrowed to slits as the shadow raises its hands. Her desperation made clear by the quickened pace of her breath. She leaps out at the figure, but it firmly grasps the hand that wields her dagger, keeping it from sinking into its chest.

"Woah woah woah! Calm down, Mal!" Varric exclaims as he pushes her off of him. She lands on her back with a pained grunt as her side twinges at the impact. He reaches over to light the candle that stood on the table next to his cot, illuminating the concerned look that covered his face.

"Sodding ancestors!" She attempts to shift to a more comfortable position, but a searing pain shoots through her side again. She recalls the encounter with the Shade and grimaces. Varric's brow furrows in reaction to the pain on her face.

"You okay there, Herald?" He slowly makes his way over to the her and hesitates, not sure what he should do to help alleviate her distress. His hands fidget as they hang from his belt by the thumbs. Malika rubs her knuckles against her closed eyes as she tries to rid herself of the nightmare.

"It was another one of those sodding nightmares." She growls. "I don't know how everyone else stands it." Varric's brow furrows at her admission and he bends to scoop up Malika's blankets that had been thrown to the floor beside her cot during her fitful sleep.

"Last time I checked, we're not supposed to even dream."

"I know. And I'd be perfectly fine to keep on not dreaming. It started happening a little after the whole thing with the anchor." She lifts up her hand and examines the sickly green wound that doesn't seem to want to heal. She winces as it sparks a couple times before calming. Varric sighs as he lays the blankets on the end of the cot, trying to keep his eyes anywhere except her body. Malika had taken to sleeping in nothing but a pair of comfortable trousers and her breast band, much to Varric's dismay. She always got too hot in the nightgown and she never liked sleeping in the same tent as Cassandra. The Seeker always stayed up later than Malika would like reading. Plus the smaller size of Varric's tent was much more accomodating to her Dwarven nature. She stood, trying to conceal her pain from Varric, and walked to the flap of the tent, grabbing a tunic on her way. She didn't really care whether it was hers or Varric's and he didn't seem to mind. She pulled it over her head as she exited, nodding to the guard that stood by the pit that contained the glowing embers of the once vibrant campfire. She shivered as she felt the breeze caress the skin that was revealed just below her breast band and realized it was one of Varric's low cut shirts. Malika crossed her arms across her chest as she sauntered over to one of the trees that stood on the outside of the camp, leaning against it as she turned her attention to the starry sky. She smiled at how soft the fabric of the tunic was and fiddled with the hem as she started to label the few constellations she knew from her studies. She slid down the tree as she grew more and more tired, but refused to succumb to the darkness of sleep, lest the nightmares came back. She noticed the presence of one of the guards behind her, but ignored them as she slowly drifted to sleep.

***

Malika awakens to the soft morning light that indicates the sun is about to emerge from the horizon. She senses another presence nearby and her senses sharpen as she becomes more aware of her surroundings. The warmth of the wool blanket that covers her comforts her as she observes the delicate dew covering the ground. Her side pulses behind the bandage and she groans as she sits upright against the tree. A soft snore emanates from the other side and she leans over to see who it is that had fallen asleep against her same tree. It's Varric. She shakes her head slightly at him in disapproval as she gets up. He already has his own blanket shielding his body from the weather so she makes her way back to their tent. She hears the telltale signs coming from the other tent that signals that Cassandra was already up and moving around. She didn't need to worry that the Seeker would awaken Solas, for she already knew that the elven mage's morning habits consisted of waking up about an hour or so before the sun rose to walk amongst the trees by himself. What else he did, Malika had no idea. She remembers that she had fallen asleep in Varric's tunic and feels a little guilty for having done so outside. She quickly pulls it over her head and hangs it over the back of one of the chairs by the table. She had just slipped out of her trousers when Cassandra shoved her way through the tent flap.

"Herald, I have--" She stops in her tracks when she notices Malika's lack of clothing. Her face reddens and she begins to sputter an apology.

"It's fine, Cassandra, just be thankful I hadn't finished undressing. Wait for me by the campfire, I'll meet you there as soon as I'm dressed." The Nevaaran warrior quickly turns on her heel and briskly walks back outside to sit on one of the logs in the center of camp. Silently praying that Varric won't walk in on her, Malika quickly strips herself of the rest of her garments and wipes the sweat and grime from her body that had accumulated from the nightmare and time spent outside with a damp cloth. It's amazing that he hasn't done so already, with how many times they had shared the same tent by now, but she was grateful nonetheless. As she attempts to pull one of her own tunics down over her head, she hears the tent flap open from behind the dark cloth that was shielding her eyes. "I said you would have to wait Cassandra, just give me a sodding minute," She exclaims. She realizes that a stray piece of thread had caught in one of her several earrings as she hears a chuckle that was uncharacteristic of the Seeker. Malika turns and finds that it is Varric standing in the tent and not Cassandra.

"Need help?" Varric smirks as he motions towards her tunic, which had been giving her difficulties as she tried to free it from the gold rings that hung from the top of her ear. She glares at him as he continues to smirk. "I noticed you decided to sleep outside last night. I didn't peg you as one for star gazing." Malika gives up on the thread and unsheathes her dagger to cut it loose. She responds as she lets the tunic fall to hang from her shoulders the way it usually does.

"As soon as I got used to the idea I wasn't going to fall into the sky, I realized it was actually really pretty at night. Plus I have to do _something_ to keep myself from going crazy with all the shite that's happening these days." Varric chuckles and she notices a strange gleam in his eye, but it quickly disappears as he clears his throat. They stand there awkwardly for a few moments before Malika breaks their silence. "Would you mind if you helped me get this sodding armour on?" She knew how important it was to wear such protective gear, but that doesn't mean it wasn't annoying to get on and off. She understood why Cullen wore his all the time. She would too if she didn't get as hot in it as she did.

"Sure thing, Mal," he replied softly as he made his way over to her as she stooped to pick up her greaves and pull them on. There were so many different pieces to her heavy armour, she hardly remembered all the different names. They continue to pick up piece after piece of armor, fastening it in its place, hesitating only when his hand brushed against her wound underneath the bandage and tunic, causing her to wince a little. He held out her helm for her but she waved it away. There was no need to carry it around everywhere she went within the camp, much less to wear it around camp, especially when it was nowhere near time to head out. Varric pulled on his duster and secured the wide belt around his waist before slinging Bianca over his shoulder like he did every morning before following her outside where Cassandra and Solas were quietly conversing as they ate their breakfast.

"What is that you do when you leave in the mornings, Solas?" the Seeker inquired. The mage opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again when he noticed the two dwarves approaching.

"Ah. Herald. I hope your injury isn't giving you too much trouble," the elf commented when he noticed the dwarf had a pained look on her face.

"It's fine, it's just..." she sighs, unwilling to admit her troubles sleeping to the group just yet. Varric picks up on her unease and continues,

"Mal's just had a long night. She decided to fall asleep while she was stargazing." Solas cocks his brow.

"Ah, so the Herald dabbles in astronomy. If you would like, I do recall some of the lore I picked up during my travels about the constellations."

"Maybe some other time, Solas." Malika responds with a small smile and a nod. She turns to Varric as soon as the elf and Cassandra turn back to their food and mouths a silent 'thank you'. He winks and walks past her to grab some food. She sits beside Cassandra with her own and address the Seeker, "What was you had wanted to speak to me?"

"As you well know, your... encounter with the Shade has dealt a significant blow to your abilities in combat. I propose that we stay in camp for a few more days in order for you to properly heal before we engage any more of our enemies on the field." I choke a bit as I drink some of my water.

"You can't be serious? Have you forgotten how important it is that we destroy as much of the red lyrium as we can? It's imperative that we restrict Corypheus' resources!" she exclaims. They had been hunting down the known sources of the corrupt lyrium that Varric had marked on her map in order to limit its trade to the red templars and the few other nefarious parties that have shown interest in it. She notices Varric smile into his cup. She knew that it was important to him, especially after what had happened to his brother back in Kirkwall. Solas speaks up.

"The Seeker is right. You are in no condition to be fighting anything. Not until you allow the wound to heal." Malika grumbles a bit about how she can't let a pesky demon put her out of combat for even a day but resigns. Solas is right. Solas is _always_ right and it frustrates her to no end. She finishes her breakfast and heads back into her tent to read more of the reports that Cullen had sent her. She could tell it was going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> For clarification, greaves are a form of armour that resembled boots and their primary purpose was to protect the shin, although it protected the entirety of the lower leg as well.


End file.
